


How To Control Annoying Colleague

by charlesworthy



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game), Saints Row
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesworthy/pseuds/charlesworthy
Summary: Integrating a smaller business into a larger one requires only a few steps.  There's the agreement, the progression, and the buyout.  The Saints brand, as small as it is, will crumble in a few months if C&R keeps up the heat, but the main issue is their annoying CEO.





	1. There For The Taking

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This is a crack fic. Any ooc-ness or absurdity is intentional for comedic effect. Hopefully if you're here looking for SR fic anyway, you're used to it. 
> 
> The plan is to update this at least once every two weeks. If it's been two weeks since I've last updated, here's your permission to leave a comment with "update plz"

The woman sauntered into Jumin Han's office with a violent sway in her hips. Her outfit was wholly inappropriate for business negotiations; short shorts that barely covered anything and a tight purple tanktop that clung to her curves like saran wrap. She was chewing bubble gum, and surveyed the room from behind dark aviators. Her large hoop earrings jingled against a couple other piercings as she turned her head to face Jumin.

Jaehee Kang rushed in after her. “Sorry, Mr. Han, I c-couldn't keep our guest from entering.”

“Who is this?” Jumin kept a straight face despite preparing himself for this to be some kind of elaborate April Fool's prank.

“She's the--”

“I can speak for my fuckin' self, thanks,” the woman said in English, raising her hand to silence Jaehee. “You can go.”

The brunette glanced at Jumin. He simply nodded. “Don't go far, Assisstant Kang. We may need you.”

“Of course, Mr. Han.”

Jaehee left.

“Alright!” the woman said. Before Jumin's desk were two cushiony chairs, made of the finest leathers. She took one of them for herself, and propped her feet up on Jumin's desk. “Let's get down to fuckin' business, yeah?”

“Your name, first,” Jumin replied. It had been awhile since he spoke English in his own building. “And remove your shoes from my desk.”

“Killjoy,” she said. She didn't move. “Anyway, I'm the CEO of the Saints. Y'know, _that_ brand.”

Jumin folded his hands in front of him, wondering how quickly bodyguards could rush in should he call for them. “Yes, the recent partnership with C&R was established yesterday. You will want to speak with my father, then.”

“Nah.” She grinned up at him, and he found himself shifting uncomfortably under her hidden gaze. “See, I don't like the cut I was given.”

“Profit margins gave you thirty percent, did it not? This is generous considering the relative sizes of our corporations, and that all the publicity will be mainly under the Saints Row brand. If there's any objections to be had, once again, I will refer you to the Chairman--”

“Oh C'MON, _Mister_ Han,” she said. Her feet swung from his desk and she moved forward in one motion, all of a sudden standing and slamming her hands on his desk. “I'm talking the whole fuckin' pie. Give me C&R.”

Jumin glared. “Ridiculous.”

Her face scrunched up in anger. One hand removed itself from the top of Jumin's desk and shot for her hip. It patted the side of it before she slid off his desk and back into the chair. “Alright. Well played,” she said, nodding.

Her head turned – the only indication Jumin had of what she might be looking at.

“How's this? I want to make you another offer,” she said.

Jumin opened his mouth. “You realize--”

“Ah, ah, ah--” she chided, raising her hand to silence him. “I wanna give you an offer you can't refuse, but we're doing it on _my_ turf.”

Jumin's eyes narrowed. “Your...”

“My grounds. My terms. I'll even book your flight.”

She gave him a wide shark-smile, her hands moving in a semi-shrug. “Sound good?”

He didn't like it, but something in her smile forced him to agree.

 


	2. Sorry, Didn't Catch That

When the boss of the Saints had said she'd book Jumin Han's flight, he'd expected a first class seat in a conventional airline, noise-blocking headphones provided for him, along with a small selection of fine wines. C&R, if he had booked his own flight, would have provided a slightly _larger_ selection of fine wines but perfection was not to be expected from a plane that belonged to a different company.

The ticket he'd received in the mail, courtesy of Saints Row™, directed him to an airport he'd never heard of before.

He did his best to relax on the car ride there, but he didn't do well when he wasn't in control. He put on a sleeping mask and the sounds of the poor people's city sidewalks to soothe him. Before he knew it, the gentle racing turbulence of Driver Kim's expertise driving had lulled him into a gentle nap. He woke up only as the door was opened for him, and got out of the car just as Driver Kim was taking his luggage out of the trunk.

“This is an open field,” Jumin said.

“It's the address,” Driver Kim clarified. “That you gave me.”

Jumin Han pouted.

He reached in his pocket to pull out his cell phone. No business executive could pull such a prank, he reasoned, so the true prankster had to be some one else. Luciel immediately came to mind. He called him.

A chiming tone greeted him before the redhead did.

“This is GHS 70.7 Radio! You're on live now with host Seven! Oh! Seven!”

There was no point in entertaining yet another one of Luciel's mysterious and transient obsessions, so Jumin got straight to the point. “Why did you send me the tickets?”

“Tickets? We're doing a giveaway right now for three tickets to Anna Indiana's next world tour! Remember to text God7 to 0111 to be entered!!”

Wow. Was this a new record for a 707-induced headache? 12 seconds. Jumin would have to check his notes.

“Luciel,” Jumin started. “I was given tickets to the U.S. and the directions to the airport lead me to a field with nothing there. What kind of prank is this?”

“No prank! It looks like your flight will be there shortly, Mr. Chairman's Son, sir!”

Luciel hung up, maybe out of courtesy since his “flight” was supposedly arriving. Jumin did not know how he would know that, until he looked up at the sky and saw a helicopter. How did he miss that sound?

It was loud, and it descended down to earth loudly. Jumin pulled a pair of noise-canceling headphones out of his briefcase and put them on.

Helicopters usually spent awhile landing. They were slower aircraft. Was Jumin meant to be impressed? He'd ridden in helicopters countless times before. The view was typically breathtaking, but the noise made any conversation impossible.

Driver Kim excused himself politely, peeling off with the kind of noise Jumin might have heard if he weren't standing next to a helicopter with noise-reducing headphones.

He returned his steely, cool gaze to the helicopter. It was still going, a nondescript driver keeping the blades spinning. Out of one side, a flamboyantly dressed man jumped out, grinning from ear to ear.

He was wearing a purple tank top that clung to his body, outlining his musculature, and tucked into the shortest pair of shorts Jumin had ever seen on a man. He had dark aviator sunglasses on, and the hoop earrings he wore seized in the wind caused by the helicopter.

Wait a second... He'd seen that outfit before.

“Hey! Jumin Han! You made it!”

That certainly was not the same voice the CEO of the Saints had when they last met, just about two weeks ago, but Jumin didn't know a better explanation. Either a man was sent in her place, trying and failing to impersonate her, or she'd had one quality plastic surgeon.

The man walked towards Jumin with surprising grace for some one wearing stiletto heels in a grassy field.

“You're not as much of a wet blanket as I thought!” He laughed. “Where are your fuckin' bags?”

Jumin glanced around him. “...Still in the car it seems.”

“What-the-fuck-ever, right? Get in the heli, fucker.” He turned and hopped into the helicopter with a practiced ease, puling on a pair of headphones in one motion, and stood, waiting for Jumin to aparently hop in, too.

“Are we taking a helicopter?”

“Hell yeah,” he answered enthusiastically. “The Saints travel in style!”

Jumin, against all his better judgment, entered the helicopter, which almost immediately lurched into the air. Jumin stumbled forward, further into the aircraft, and one arm reached out to prevent him from tumbling.

“Jesus. Chill out.” He offered a smile to Jumin. “It's gonna be a bumpy ride, Mr. Han, you better get fuckin' ready.”

Jumin merely nodded. But he still noticed the pistol strapped to the other's hip.

 


	3. Strange Thing to Worry About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a little late? i think? but enjoy

Helicopters were noisy, but of course that was no surprise to Jumin Han. Instead, he was more perplexed by the lack of comfortable seating in the back of the thing. The driver had one seat to himself, and another sat beside him, but the back of the helicopter was completely bare except for a sinister looking gun of some kind, and a couple of bars to hold on to.

The Saint's CEO was holding on to one, and after he'd caught Jumin, it was enough to convince him to do the same.

They flew in the relative silence for a bit, the CEO glancing to Jumin from time to time. Still, it was impossible to see his gaze from behind those dark aviators. Jumin didn't like the idea, so he looked away.

Suddenly, he broke the silence enthusiastically, seemingly springing to life and causing Jumin to start. (But he totally didn't start, and the .5 seconds it took to pretend as if it had never happened was a slight embarassment.)

"This is fucking boring!" he exclaimed. He rolled his head around, fixing Jumin with another stare he could not see and therefore examine. "Sorry, Han-san --"

"That's Japanese."

"I fucking know, prick. Sorry, Han, I'm usually used to being gunned down or chased or whatever the fuck assholes try to do with my helicopters. This? Fuckin' boring."

What. Gunned down? In a helicopter? Jumin decided to stay quiet, surely there was some joke that wasn't funny or something else that needed to be explained.

But the other man stayed quiet. No explanation was given, except for how he peeled himself away from the stability bar and stepped over carefully to deliver a hearty kick to the gun sitting at the side of the craft. "This baby's never steered me wrong."

He glanced over to the pilot in his chair and pointed at him. "That baby neither, too."

Jumin stared.

"Aaaanyway." He plopped down next to the gun and patted the floor beside him. "Take a seat, Jumin Han, I'll show you how to work the mini gun."

"A mini gun," he repeated. Now he had the proper name for it, but unfortunately he had little to no knowledge about guns or how they operated, especially not mini guns, so it was unhelpful. "I assume to protect yourself from being 'gunned down'."

"Girl's gotta have her hobbies."

Jumin quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Right, guy, whatever," he brushed off nonchalantly. He hooked his arm over the top of the mini gun, leaning forward and seemingly scanning the skies for something. "There's nothing out there..."

His voice was low as he said it, soft even. It was a welcome change to Jumin, somehow.

He grabbed Jumin's hand abruptly, pulling it to part of the mini gun. "Here's where you fire," he explained. "I'll aim, you shoot a bird or something."

"Why?" Jumin asked.

A single shrug was the answer. "Because we don't have any planes to shoot or something."

He lined up the gun, pointing it towards a flying V in the sky. "Pull whenever you're ready."

Jumin didn't think he'd ever be ready, he wasn't sure he wanted to hurt or maim any bird that was simply flying through the air, but something made his muscles tense that he couldn't confidently attribute to the influence of the man beside him, and the mini gun fired, loud and hot. Jumin flinched, he let up.

The V dispersed, birds flying in separate directions, some falling, but they were gone out of sight before Jumin had fully regained his senses.

"Haha, nice," the Boss cooed.

Jumin could feel his heart pounding in his chest, beating faster and harder than he'd ever fully experienced. He didn't know the source. He didn't have arrhythmia, or any other heart problems, he felt fine before everything happened, so... What was it?

The Boss' hand was placed over his, and he was looking up to Jumin in such a way that the aviators had slid down the bridge of his nose. Jumin got a good look at his eyes, cold and dead and the most magnificent shade of bright-ass neon pink.

Jumin nearly felt breathless, so he pulled himself away from the Boss and stood. "Excuse me," he muttered. "I don't think I like the mini gun very much."

"...Suit yourself," he responded.


End file.
